Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,40

words, and a warmth in his tone as he said them, but in the wake of my messages from Claire, I wasn't sure I was ready to explore what that was. Making our own rules was great and all, but I still didn't know what the hell Jude and I really were. And for now, I was okay with that. So was he.

But even knowing that, Claire was right. I was afraid to tell my family because it meant I had to face all the questions when none of the questions had answers.

About me, me and the baby, me and Jude and the baby, and me and Jude. Separate categories with lots and lots of unanswered questions.

As I broke open the scone and spread the cream over the surface, followed by the jam, I thought about how rarely I needed to explain the dynamic of my family to someone who had no backstory.

"I'm going to tell them today."

He watched me carefully. "All right."

"Have you told your family yet?"

"No."

I waited for him to elaborate. But again, it was just ... that one word. There was no emotion in it, just like there was no change in his eyes or mouth. Huh.

The bite I took of the scone was indecently big, as was the moan that came out of my mouth as I chewed. His crooked grin in response was a whole lot of things. Endearing. Human. Sexy AF. I managed to swallow. "Holy shit, did she bake these?"

"I reckon she did, but she'll never admit it if she didn't."

"If I could bake a scone like this, I'd tell everyone I've ever met in my entire life. Don't ever fire her."

Jude was so amused, eyes warm and dancing like I'd not seen them since that first night.

"Whu?" I asked, mouth full of happiness. His gaze, well ... it was more loaded than my scone. And I had a lot of cream on that baby.

"I can't remember the last time I gained so much pleasure from something so small."

As I swallowed, I imagined that my cheeks were bright ass red. This guy had me flustered and quite easily. Normally, I was the fluster-er. With men. Or maybe, compared to Jude, they'd all been boys. There was no way for me to run circles around this man or outmaneuver him to get what I wanted.

And honestly, all I wanted was more stretches of time like the one we'd just had—uncomplicated snuggling, a little flirting, and a side of baked goods. I broke off a corner of the scone and held it out to him, pulling my fingers back when he tried to reach for it.

Feeding him something delicious when I felt like it. That was one of my new rules.

Understanding lit his eyes with something steamy that I felt right between my thighs.

Jude opened his mouth, and I set the scone in. Before I could retract my hand, he gripped my wrist and held it in place, sucking lightly at the tips of my fingers.

Now that I felt in entirely different areas of my body. If I wasn't nipping out through my shirt, it would be a freaking miracle.

"Delicious," he murmured.

The way he licked his lips as we both settled back in our seats had me feeling all squirmy and restless, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knew it.

"I have to go to the facility in a bit," he told me.

I nodded. I knew the drill, so it wasn't surprising. "Meetings?"

"Not today. I need some work done on my hamstring, and I'm sure my manager wants to make my ears bleed, reminding me why I'm old and slow and can't score goals anymore."

He sounded so deliciously grumpy when he said it that I smiled.

"Oh, that's funny?" he asked.

I swear, I tried to wipe the grin off my face. It was so tempting to climb on his lap and show him exactly how not-old and not-slow he was, and all the different ways he could score, but I also knew this was a bruise for every elite athlete.

"No." I wiped scone crumbs off the side of my mouth. "Should I clear out when you do?"

Jude shrugged. "No rush on my end, unless you need to get your friend's car back to Oxford."

I shook my head. "She doesn't need it until this weekend. I may work here while you're gone, if that's okay with you? Maybe get the phone call out of the way too."

What a seemingly insignificant thing I was asking. But